Upon The Invisible Thread
by anzanawot
Summary: Sylaire- Set around a century after Claire jumped off the ferris wheel


Chapter 1- A Precarious Livelihood

I cut the engine when I reached a beauteous white-painted wooden house and pulled into the driveway. It was a quaint little thing, with dark brown tiles on the roof and pale blue shutters around the windows, and a neat front yard that was green with life and dotted with pale pink and yellow flowers that I didn't know the name of. The house was circled by a small white fence.

It had been a while since I had last seen the house, but it was beautiful and I smiled at the sight of it. It had been built about eighty years ago by my uncle Peter, Gab- someone else and I. It was built as a place for Jamie to be raised and he had a wonderful childhood. Once he reached twenty-years old he asked if he could keep the house to live in for the rest of his life- we agreed, and he's lived there ever since.

It was planted in the middle of nowhere, in green fields. There were no neighbours for Jamie; but he preferred to be on his own anyway. However, there was a medical centre nearby, which was important as recently his illness, Alzheimer's to be precise, had gotten worse. He had a nurse though, Jenna, who lived about ten minutes away, so she could get to him quickly. She stayed with him most of the time- from seven-thirty in the morning till nine in the evening. She was a good friend of Peter's- he knew her when he worked at Housby Hospital in Little Rock, the capital city in Arkansas. I believe Jamie and Jenna enjoyed each other's company.

No one would want to live near anyone like us anyway, not after they found out about us. It had been exactly one-hundred-and-eighty-three years since I jumped off the Ferris wheel in Central Park, revealing my ability and my kind to the world. People were shocked, horrified, yet intrigued and curious. The government chased me, and so did its army of medical researchers. All wanted to see the extent of my ability- see how far I could go before I cracked, but my dad stopped them, protected me, which I am always grateful for. But it destroyed him, seeing me leap off the Ferris wheel and turn the walls he had spent so long building to dust. He stayed shocked long after[g. It was safe for him to live alone also. The scenery in Arkansas was a pleasant change from the hustling city of Manhattan. I didn't get out of the Cadillac straight away, I sat there for a moment, reminding and preparing myself for what was inside.  
I tried to see Jamie every couple of weeks. It was an exhausting eight-hour drive from New York but I somehow managed to enjoy it. There was something comforting about being alone and listening to music as I drove through silent cities and watched the sun rise or set. The world was quiet and I liked it like that. But things had become rather herculean recently, meaning that I hadn't seen Jamie in about three months. In the everyday struggle of trying to live a normal life, I had a job at one of the best banks in New York City to retain. It meant that I always had piles and piles of paperwork to do either at night or at the weekend. But working hard had its benefits. I had recently been appointed branch manager and was able to have extended holidays if I needed with a high pay raise. However I didn't take the holidays, apart from two days every month to see Jamie, yet those were normally on a weekend anyway. I liked working; as soon as I stopped and my mind wasn't concentrated on anything I started to remember things, things that I tried so hard to forget.

Additionally, numerous versions of the company had started and of course I was a popular target, especially after the 'Ferris Wheel' incident.  
I cleared my head and stepped out of the Cadillac. It was summer and although the sun was shining there was a light cool breeze that gently swished the grass on the ground and my hair. I walked along the path up to the door, my leather boots clicked as I walked. I reached the door and stood in front of it. Deep breath. Despite the fact that I had been here thousands of times, knew the place inside out, every item of furniture, and that my son lived here, I still got nervous every time I knocked on the door. But I knocked anyway, three times; it was my 'knock'. There was no answer and no sign of movement. I knocked again, a little bit harder this time, but still there was no answer. I couldn't hear any noises or voices, just silence. Silence has always been my enemy. When the door didn't open after the third time I had knocked, panic instantly gripped a hold of me.  
I held the letterbox open with my now shaking fingers and yelled through, 'Jamie?' But my scared voice echoed around the empty house.  
'Jamie, I'm coming in.'  
It was then that I heard a noise coming from the kitchen.  
Instead of calling him again, I pulled out a pistol from my bag and crept round the side of the wooden house.  
The weather had changed viciously, mutating from a bright warm summer's day to dark and cloud. A black storm hung above the house. The wind had turned from cool to ice and from gentle to dangerous.  
I used to be the innocent cheerleader from Texas, with a father who worked at a paper company and a mother whose job it was to breed show dogs, and now I had to carry a gun around in my bag. This wasn't me, but it's the me I had to be to survive.  
The back door swung open with the harsh winds, and I slowly walked inside, my pistol firmly in my hands and ready to take aim if needed.  
'Hello, Claire.'  
I jumped in an instant with my pistol an inch away from the attacker. It wasn't Jamie; he wasn't here. But I knew who it was, and the memories that clung to this persons face sent waves of shivers down my spine.  
'What are you doing here?' I spat.  
He gave a look of disgust. 'Stupid question. You know exactly why I'm here.' He flicked the switch on the kettle. He was so tall and he stood over me so that I was in his shadow. I could tell he was doing this to show me that I couldn't overpower him if I tried.

He grinned as he stared at me- his gaze burned. He circled me slowly while laughing. 'It's been a while since we've been here, together that is.'  
I bit my tongue in an attempt to not say anything that could cause him to use his powers. He carried on walking around me until he reached my left side. He gently pinched a strand of my dark hair and played with it. His fingers then moved to my cheek, and although they were soft, my cheeks felt as if they had been injected with poison.  
'You know I always liked you with brown hair, Clairebear.'  
That did it. Anger and adrenaline rushing through my veins, I turned and punched him, square on in the face, not that it helped much. He was couldn't get hurt. He was also very strong, so when my fist collided with him, he merely stumbled back and leant against the walls. However, he could feel pain, whereas I couldn't, so if I hit him one hundred times, it wouldn't leave any damage, but he would feel every single punch, whereas I wouldn't feel a thing.

At least I won at something.  
My head was a blur, and despite it being almost one hundred and twenty years ago, it filled with memories of when he entered my house while I was home alone, wanting my power.  
I felt weak and dizzy and nauseous. My mouth became dry and my hand shot out desperately in search of something to hold on to. My fingers clasped onto the kitchen counter and my vision started to black out. What was going on? I'd never felt like this before. I felt weak. My mind was bursting with memories that I had taken so long to conceal and hide. Now they were all unravelling, flowing at an unstoppable rate. I was drowning in them. I couldn't breathe. My chest was tight. My lungs were getting smaller and smaller; tighter and tighter. I could no longer see- everything was blurred. I could make out Sylar pushing himself off the wall and crouching down before me. His face was parallel with mine. I swore at him and just before I fell into darkness, I was sure I saw him smile.


End file.
